Drink Down All Unkindness
by Stanleigh
Summary: SET BETWEEN 1x08 AND 1x09. Pythagoras has had enough of the teasing, and sets out to prove that he is able to have a good time without the involvement of geometry. But he is unprepared for the bedlam that is the Atlantis Arms...


_DISCLAIMER: I own none of the 'Atlantis' characters, locations etc.; they belong to the BBC. All I own is the plot of this story._

* * *

"_Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all_ _unkindness_."- _The Merry Wives of Windsor_ by William Shakespeare, Act One, Scene One

* * *

Jason still wasn't entirely sure how it had happened. The more he looked back on it, the more ridiculous it all seemed. It was easy to blame Hercules- irritable, larger-than-life Hercules, who slept underneath tables in the tavern more often than in his own bed- but Jason knew that he himself was also very much at fault.

"You're an enigma, Pythagoras," Hercules had declared one afternoon, slamming his clay goblet down onto the cluttered table. The sun had begun to slip sluggishly below the horizon, bathing the city in a pink, contented glow. "I never quite know what thoughts and plots are brewing beneath that curly hair."

"Good to know," Pythagoras muttered absent-mindedly, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he drew a long charcoal line along his wooden ruler. His parchment was already half-full, the corners curling up and the edges slightly torn.

"How do I know that you aren't plotting the destruction of our great city?"

"You don't," Pythagoras answered through gritted teeth, pausing to observe the sharp, perfectly-formed angle he had created.

"What _is_ it about triangles that fascinates you, anyway?"

"You wouldn't understand." A small note was scratched next to the angle, the pencil barely touching the parchment. _90º?_

"I much prefer something nice and round, if you get my meaning."

"I really don't." The note was crossed out firmly, the charcoal lines black and thick.

"Something a little softer than '_sharp angles_' and '_chiselled lines_'_-_"

"You're disgusting." The note was re-written, a little more certainly this time, and circled. Pythagoras lifted his head with a brisk, pleased sigh, rolling his shoulders back as he folded the parchment neatly down the middle.

"Progress?" enquired Jason lazily, who had been poring over a thick, leather-bound book lent to him 'with Ariadne's compliments'. Medusa had smuggled it out of the palace to him the week before. It contained detailed descriptions of each of the gods revered by Atlanteans; the pages dedicated to Aphrodite had arrived with their corners folded down.

"At last," Pythagoras said happily. "The angle problem has been bothering me for weeks. I originally thought that it was impossible for…" Pythagoras trailed off, a slightly hurt look crossing his face as Hercules gave a loud, melodramatic groan.

"For the sake of the gods, man, don't keep boring us with this geometric nonsense!" he cried, clapping a meaty head to his forehead. "You're young! Intelligent! A little scrawny, perhaps- you look as though you need a good square meal-"

"I'm never going to get one of those with you around," Pythagoras muttered darkly.

"- And you're not particularly athletic either- or flexible, come to that. But I suppose your hair is quite nice-" Pythagoras' right hand flew up to flatten it self-consciously- "And you've got that wide-eyed, little boy lost look about you. Some women like that."

Jason grinned and slammed his book shut. "Hercules is right," he announced, jumping up onto the seat of his chair and rotating his hips. "You should be out _calculating the angles_ of a curvaceous, wily, sensuous-"

Pythagoras gave an uncharacteristic shriek and clapped his hands over his ears, beginning to sing loudly and tunelessly as Hercules lunged at Jason, knocking him off the chair so they fell in a jumbled, senseless heap onto the dusty floor.

"That was too far!" Hercules roared, glaring down at Jason, who was still managing to crow with laughter despite being pinned beneath his considerable weight.

"You'll crush him!" Pythagoras reproached, his voice a lot higher than usual as he tentatively removed his hands from his ears.

"Oh! Thank you very much, I'm sure!" Hercules snapped indignantly. "I protect your virtue and the only thanks I get is a rude and _utterly unfounded_ remark regarding-"

"My eternal gratitude for preserving my honour, Hercules," Pythagoras interjected, rolling his eyes, "But if you could please refrain from _flattening my friend-_"

"Alright! But you're so uptight that I sometimes wonder whether that ruler hasn't got stuck up your-"

Jason screamed with laughter as Pythagoras' eyes became as round as saucers, his face changing from white to red to a steadily darkening shade of purple within a period of five seconds.

"Charming," he muttered angrily. Hercules had heaved himself to his feet, but Jason was still convulsing on the floor, choking and spluttering and clutching desperately at his sides. "Oh, shut up," he snarled at him, "It wasn't that funny."

Jason couldn't reply. Pythagoras made a discontented noise and marched towards his sleeping quarters, throwing the curtain aside in a display of indignation. Hercules yanked Jason to his feet with little grace, pushing him back into a chair with a scowl.

"Now look what you've done," he hissed, "I'm willing to bet that he won't make dinner tonight now."

"You're willing to bet on _anything_," Jason remarked, rubbing his shoulder where it had made contact with the solid floor. "He won't be angry for long; he never is. He'll wake up in the morning after such an inspirational dream about hypotenuses that he'll have forgotten that this ever happened."

"No, he won't," Pythagoras snapped, appearing in the gap between the curtains with his skinny arms folded. He had changed his clothes, and Jason suddenly felt himself flush, blood spiking red-hot as his eyes travelled down Pythagoras' lean frame.

He had exchanged his old, faded work tunic for one of a much smarter beige. The hems weren't trailing, the neckline wasn't fraying and it appeared to be made of a light cotton material. It was baggy, but had been drawn in at the waist by a simple leather belt that accented how incredibly tiny his waist was. His trousers were of a deep brown, the knees not thinning, the ends not turned up. The clothes were neither extravagant nor expensive, but they were smart and well-fitted and Pythagoras had a smug little smile on his face that glowed as brightly as his fluffy hair did when it caught the light.

"I'm going out," he announced, left eyebrow cocked as he looked between Hercules and Jason. "Don't expect me back till the morning. _Au revoir_." With a ripple of his blue travelling cloak, he turned on his heel and marched out of the front door.

A stunned silence followed his exit. Jason swallowed heavily; the image of Pythagoras' tiny waist seemed to have been imprinted onto his retinas. He jolted forwards with a startled yelp as Hercules clipped him round the ear.

"Come on!" he urged frantically, "Don't just sit there! What's the matter with you?"

"What?"

"We can't let Pythagoras go to the tavern alone! Anything could happen."

Jason snorted. "He's a big boy, I'm sure he can handle it. He journeyed from Samos to Atlantis alone, didn't he?"

"Jason," Hercules began slowly, in the tone of voice one might use with a slow and disengaged toddler, "_Princess Ariadne_ is more streetwise than Pythagoras. The last time the two of us went out for the evening- before _you_ arrived- I went to relieve myself and returned to find him about to escort a leering old man back to his lodgings 'because he had lost his spectacles and couldn't find the way home'."

Jason stared at him blankly. "Well, what's wrong with that?"

Hercules looked as though he would very much like to wring Jason's neck. "What's _wrong_ is that Pythagoras has no notion of how vulnerable and- and _corruptible_ he comes across to strangers! He's a genius, etc. etc., but he's also incredibly naïve."

"I'm sorry," Jason said, and he was, "But I don't understand what you're getting at."

Hercules sat down, his face very close to Jason's. "I don't know what the customs are where you come from," he said quietly, "But in Atlantis, it is perfectly acceptable and often encouraged for two men to engage in- uh… activities of a- _rambunctious_ nature." He wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis. "Do you follow me?"

Jason nodded, despite the fierce blush spreading up his neck.

"Pythagoras is very innocent. He's had a terrible past, which has matured him beyond his years, but in matters of the flesh and heart he has little experience. There are men in this city who would exploit that." Hercules looked uncomfortable, but his expression was unusually grave. "He's so eager to do good that he forgets that not everyone is as they seem; he trusts too easily and forgives too quickly."

"He's not a child," said Jason firmly, "And he's not stupid, either. The gods know I worry about him as much as you do, particularly now he's told us about his father, but we can't baby him." He hesitated, but ploughed on recklessly. "You can't… you can't take his father's place, Hercules. You can't give him the protection he missed out on in his childhood. It doesn't work like that."

An odd look crossed Hercules' face. "You sound as though you speak from experience."

Jason shrugged. Growing up with his uncle had been wonderful, and the gratitude he felt towards the crusty ex-naval officer would continue throughout his life- but the companionship and friendship had never quite filled the aching gap left by the absence of his mother and father.

"I wouldn't want to compare myself to him," he said finally. "Our situations are vastly different. But I do know that, at least to some people, parents can be irreplaceable."

"I'm not trying to be a parent!" Hercules exploded. "I just worry about him! You and I, we're the only two people he has left now! That brother won't be back, or if so it'll only be to make trouble, and his mother's still in Samos…" He trailed off angrily, and took several deep breaths. The light of the setting sun glared red and sharp through the windows. "Can't the three of us just enjoy a night out together?" he pleaded finally, eyes pinched in worry at the corners. "That way, everybody wins."

Jason hesitated, but eventually nodded, pushing back his chair. "But no beetle racing, alright?" he said, grinning. "I don't fancy another week on one meal a day."

Hercules shot him a withering look, but he pushed Jason out of the door with a renewed spring in his step.

* * *

The Atlantis Arms was hot, noisy. The laughs were loud, the kissing fierce, the fights brutal; the ale and the wine flowed freely, and money changed hands in a flash and a rattle of silver and gold. The stench of sweat and cheap scent mingled in the heavy atmosphere with the thick smell of alcohol, and Jason felt as though he had stepped into an alternate reality; as though life had been retuned, with the volume and the contrast and the brightness turned up. The energy was electric, crackling and spitting as more jokes were told, more bottles were opened, more dice were rolled.

"_OH!_" Pythagoras screamed, tears pouring down his face as he laughed uncontrollably, "Oh, my- oh, Jason, you're s-so _f-f-funny_!" He dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking as laughter rippled through him. "How have I never n-noticed how _f-funny_ you are?"

Jason smiled absently, and patted Pythagoras awkwardly on the back. Two flagons of ale and several tumblers of wine into the evening and Pythagoras had completely lost all semblances of his usual practicality and self-control. He giggled helplessly at the slightest comment Jason made, who was silently thanking the gods that Pythagoras hadn't yet made a move to stand because if he had, he would doubtless have collapsed onto the floor. Hercules had fussed since their arrival, glaring at anyone who so much as brushed Pythagoras' cloak, even going so far as to demand that the grubby, leering old codger making eyes at Pythagoras from the bar be escorted off the premises. Not that Pythagoras had noticed: he had been tipsy when his friends had arrived after only two tumblers of wine, and was now so far gone that he would be unlikely to notice if the lecher hobbled over to the table and-

Oh. _Oh_.

Anyone could see that Pythagoras was a lightweight, unused to drink and particularly to such vast quantities of it. If his naivety, when sober, permitted him to escort suspicious men home, then the influence of alcohol would likely cloud his judgement so completely that he would barely notice if he was pulled into a dark alleyway and-

"J-Jason?" Pythagoras stammered, smiling lopsidedly. "Are you alright?"

Jason hitched on his own smile, gesturing subtly to Hercules (who was conversing with the large-bosomed barmaid). "I feel a little sleepy. I think it's time we head for home, what do you think?" He rode out the high-pitched fit of giggles patiently. By the time Pythagoras had regained the use of speech, Hercules had joined them.

"What's so funny?" he asked, a slight frown creasing his red, sweaty forehead.

"I suggested we head home," Jason supplied flatly, when Pythagoras simply burst into fresh peals of laughter. "Don't ask."

"I wasn't going to," Hercules said grimly. He lifted Pythagoras' right arm over his shoulders; Jason quickly followed his lead, and, carefully, they lifted him to his feet. With surprising speed and agility, they managed to sidle out of the back door into the cool freshness of the Sacred Way, Pythagoras still giggling quietly.

"I've never known him react to drink like this," Hercules hissed over Pythagoras' head. The streets were quiet, the night still and calming as they made a steady progress through the twisting paths of the city.

"Do you think perhaps someone spiked his cup?" Jason suggested. "While we weren't looking, or before we arrived-"

"Spiked?" Hercules repeated warily. "What do you mean?"

Jason resisted the urge to groan. "You don't think someone put something in his drink? Something to make him go-" he gestured with his free hand- "all giddy-"

"What, like a drug?" Hercules said sharply. Jason shrugged as best he could.

"It's a possibility."

"Don't be st-stupid, Jason," Pythagoras choked out, eyes watering, "I'd have _t-tasted_ it. I have eggsellent sensory glands." He grinned widely again, and Jason, in spite of his physical discomfort, felt something soft- something akin to contentment, perhaps, like a hot drink in the winter or the scent of candles at Christmas- warm him through.

"You owe us big time for tonight," he muttered conspiratorially, hitching Pythagoras up as he slid a little further down his arm, "You're lucky you're so light else we might have had to leave you there till you were sober enough to walk."

Pythagoras nodded solemnly. "Sssounds fair," he slurred, head lolling slightly. "But I'm glad you d-didn't. I l-love you, Jason."

Jason laughed upon reflex, though it caught in the back of his throat. The noise echoed, loud and oddly bitter, in the serenity of the twilight. "You're further gone than I thought," he commented drily. "But, for what it's worth, I think you both a gentleman and a scholar, and therefore very much out of my league."

Hercules smiled tightly at him. Pythagoras turned his wide, child-like eyes back to Jason with a look of reproach. "I r-really do love you," he said earnestly, "I think you're r-really _sp-sp-_" he paused, looking cross as he swallowed hard-"_sp-special_."

"That's very kind of you."

"I also think that you are very, very attractive."

Hercules coughed pointedly. Pythagoras ignored him.

"You have really nice c-curly hair," he continued matter-of factly. "I always want to touch it. And your skin is r-really soft, which is odd because you walk around half-naked p-practically every day. You'd think you'd be sunburnt by now."

Jason felt his face heat up, and he made a mental note to invest in more tunics.

"… But I d-don't mind usually, because your body is really nice."

_Scratch that_.

"And you're so kind, and generous," Pythagoras murmured dreamily, "I bet your l-lips taste really lovely. But when you get angry," he added, and suddenly his voice was darker, deeper, and Jason felt his insides twitch and coil, "It's r-really, really…" Pythagoras paused, and Jason fought the urge to growl in frustration, "It's really _hot_."

Hercules coughed even louder this time, and though Jason's ears were burning, his curiosity thrummed stronger than any embarrassment.

"I remember the time when you had the ar-argument with the man about the e-eggs, and you came storming upstairs and I swear, all I w-wanted was for you to b-bend me over the table and-"

"OKAY!" Hercules roared, clapping his free hand firmly over Pythagoras' mouth as Jason stumbled over his own feet in shock, "That's quite enough of that, thank you!"

Jason's face was burning so fiercely that he was surprised that he hadn't yet burst into flame. A hundred thoughts were spinning around his head; he felt dizzy- numb- was what Pythagoras was saying true, or simply a side-effect of his inebriation? And if it _was_ true, then where did that leave their friendship? He couldn't lose him…

"Ignore him," Hercules whispered urgently, cheeks slightly pink, "He's out of his mind. I should imagine he'd be declaring his undying love for _me_ if you weren't here."

"Perhaps," Jason said distantly. He trailed slightly behind Hercules, the ache in his biceps not registering. He felt rather overwhelmed, not least because, as likely as not, Pythagoras would wake up in the morning with a splitting headache and no memory of what he had said. It left the ball very much in Jason's court; it would be up to his discretion to elect to speak to Pythagoras.

"Honestly, Jason," Hercules said sincerely, and Jason felt as though he were being pulled back from a period of submersion in cool water, "Don't worry about this. It- it doesn't mean anything."

Oddly, it was that final comment, rather than any of Pythagoras' drunken ramblings, that caused the sharp, melancholic pang in Jason's heart.

_FIN_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading._


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